An Artistic Impression
by RottingBanana
Summary: She was studying the Arts, mainly the art of literature. No way she was giving up her passion of poetry and Shakespeare. But she did find a few new passions, painting and sculpting. The girl had an artistic talent, this was evident in shrines she made to resemble a certain Football Head. That was a past life ready to be forgotten, the muse of said art pieces was no longer here.
1. Chapter 1: Art Block

An Artistic Impression

I do not own any of these characters that have been imprinted into all of us from our childhood. 'Hey Arnold' is the product of Nickelodeon and the creation of Craig Bartlett.

This is my first FanFiction and I do hope it has some redeeming features to it. I've been a secret stalker of the 'Hey Arnold' fiction's and thought it was high time I contributed. So please if there is anything in this story worth fixing/improving I'd like the reviews. =]

So shall we . . .

* * *

Prologue

Over the years the P.S. 118 gang had moved through the changes of life. Of being a childish fourth grader in Elementary School, were life was easy going and had adventure. At that age you couldn't wait for summer vacation to come. To entering the world of tween-hood, when you were faced with strange bodily changes in Middle School. Coming to the conclusion any off day from school was a chance to sleep in and summer vacation was freedom.

Then you hit the springboard to adulthood, the teen years. Awe welcome to High School! This is when you are discovering the person you will be later on in life. Everything matters on your appearance and social standing. Where you can't wait to grow up and live your own life, to be independent. Skip summer vacation, College life can't come soon enough.

* * *

Chapter 1: Art Block

The warm morning sun shone through thin white curtains, that danced as the breeze drifted into the room. This particular room had been a witness to the growth of a strong yet fragile life. If the walls could only speak, they'd tell you the story of its owner. Pink was once its favored color, but now that was considered too childish and reflected a past ready to be overlooked. Maroon, Brown and a cool Blue were now the colors of choice. This once familiar room began to reveal a new person.

The sound of the busy city street outside greeted the next sound to be heard, an alarm clock. A heavy, lazy hand crept out from under a floral patterned comforter. It moved about aimlessly to find that confound contraption, made by someone who thought waking up to a continual buzzing sound, was a pure joy. A groan escaped from under the mound of comforter. Soon a stiff body rouse up from its nest of bed sheets. Then 'wham!' old Betsy smashed down on the snooze button of the black alarm clock. Good morning Helga G. Pataki.

Helga sluggishly made her way out of bed and down the hall to the bathroom. She took a glance at herself in the mirror, "Bed-head is your best look my dear." she moaned. Pulling open the mirrored cabinet, she reached for her tooth brush and tooth paste. She oozed the paste onto the dry brush, wet it down and shoved it into her cotton dry mouth. Scrubbing away at the enameled pearly whites, she gazed at her reflection, 'Glad you wake up alone. Who'd want to see this?' she told herself in thought.

As minutes passed by she was washed, dressed and ready to face the day. Along the road of change Helga had developed a woman's figure and carried it evenly, but that was expected of a 21 year old. She had height, thanks to the long legs her mother gave her. Helga no longer had her signature unibrow, Olga was kind enough to teach her baby sister how to tweeze, when she was visiting for a summer. She ditched the pink and came to like the earth tones. No more pink dresses, the artsy Indie like fashions were now her style. It had its feminine appeal, but still carried strength in its stitching. One thing was certain this fashion complemented her new pixie haircut. No more school girl pigtails and sadly no more bow. She wore said bow as a headband now, on occasion she tied it to her book bag. Didn't mean she was ready to give up the _one thing_ that connected her to the _one person_ in her life that acknowledged her being.

Helga made her way down stairs, skipping the last two steps with ease. The house was quite, and had no life to it anymore, that was normal these days. It was her first year in Middle School, not the best time of her life. Bob and Miriam finally said their "I can't's" instead of enduring a marriage they built off of their "I do's". Death wasn't going to part these two, ones desire for another woman and ones love of alcohol is what did the trick. Helga had to face the separation of her parents on her own. Olga wasn't there to be a shoulder to cry on, she was an assistant teacher in another country at the time.

Bob moved out with his love affair, leaving the house and Helga in the care of Miriam. Honestly not the best parent to rise a blossoming 10 year old. After the divorce Miriam fell into a deeper depression, her liquor her only comfort, ignorance was bliss.

No one gave Helga a second thought; she detached herself from those around her, including Phoebe. Her reputation of being a bully scared off even the older kids. She was scrapping by in Middle School, a rebel without a cause. But that was then and this is now.

* * *

Helga walked into the newly remodeled kitchen, pouring herself a cup of coffee. She stood with her backside leaned into the dark wood counter with its light gray granite top. She blew on the steaming cup of Joe in her hands before taking a sip. She eyed the new pantry that had appeared one winter night.

On a cold December evening, Miriam tossed a rum bottle to the kitchen wall out of frustration with herself. Shattering the glass bottle, she watched the red hue of liquid drip its way down the tattered floral blue wallpaper. In seeing this Miriam came to a conclusion, going to the garage she came back with a sludge hammer. With a few hefty swings, aggressive grunts, and tear stained cheeks. Miriam made a hole in the kitchen wall . . . she finally broke through her own mental wall. It had become evident over time she began to come into her own person. She went to AA meetings and did the 12 step plan. Not only was her health improving, but so was her personality. Miriam found work as an interior decorator of all things. She enjoyed the idea of taking something old, worn and no longer wanted and making it into something new, useful and needed. Guess it related to her life. There were times when Miriam was neglectful, but it was safe to say she was starting to take the mother role seriously. In which Helga desperately needed that mother figure in her young teen life.

Although her mother made great modifications in her person, which Helga respected. That didn't quite mean Helga made them too. Some things with Helga didn't change; her quick temper was one of them. When you've been raised in a house hold like she was, there was a reason you built a rough exterior. Or maybe it was the Pataki blood in her. Either way who'd want anyone beyond their relations to take advantage of their emotions? Helga hadn't broken through her own mental wall like Miriam had. This _wall_ protects her from anything or anyone that could penetrate her feelings. But it is also the _wall_ that makes it difficult for her to _express_ her true feelings.

She pushed away from the counter and strolled over to the pantry. She opened the sliding door to reveal stocked shelves. A sigh of relief escaped past the brim of her coffee mug. This minuscule sight to most was like a fresh spring morning to Helga. Abundance of food in the house was a miracle; Miriam not off her rocker was a miracle! She was thankful that her mother found a meaning in life, because now Helga wouldn't go hungry. Grabbing a few snack items, she closed the pantry door, gulped down the last of her coffee and made her way to the front door. She slipped on a pair of sneakers and draped the strap of her book bag over her right shoulder. Without a glance behind, she locked the front door shut making her way to the bus stop. Today was bound to be as lame as the day before, but at least she started it with a smile.

* * *

The old faded blue city bus rolled up to its sixth stop since Helga boarded it. The air breaks released with a hiss and the body of the bus lurched forward some. Helga stood with a small crowd of other young adults and together they filed off the bus.

Helga didn't go off to a well known College like most of her old grade school chums. Big Bob was too stingy in his pocketbook for that sort of College and why would he favor a second rate? Her academics and grades never compared to Olga's. But to be honest Helga could care less, if anything, she learned to rely on herself and that's how it's always been. Although to be less of a _burden_ on her father, she did find a part time job at a no name book store. There she earned enough to pay for her half of the tuition.

She was going to Hillwood's community College; here she was studying the Arts. Mainly the art of literature, no way in hell was she giving up her passion of poetry and Shakespeare. Along the way she did find a few new passions, painting and sculpting. The girl had creativity; this was evident in shrines she made to resemble a certain Football Head. That was a past life ready to be forgotten, the muse of said art pieces was no longer here.

Maybe that's why she was having such an art block lately? The anniversary of his leaving to Sen Lorenzo was just around the corner. She always felt stifled, pent up and lost when this time of year came about. The only way she coped with it, was by pretending he had died. She found it easier to accept, if she entertained the thought of him still living (which he was). God only knows what she'd be thinking about. Was he safe, healthy, happy he was with his parents, making life changing discoveries . . . was he in love with a sun kissed beauty? As the sound of the bus doors shut behind her she snapped back to reality. Shaking her head, and blinking out of her daze, Helga took in a deep breath looked forward and walked up to the old brick building, classes start in 30.

* * *

Authors Quips: This is an introduction to my version of Helga. I kind of see her as an artsy fartsy type of gal. Really ready to immerse herself into her passions. =]


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: The Come Back

Felt like it was just yesterday, he was boarding a plane similar to this one to Sen Lorenzo on a new found journey with his parents. So many years lying in wait sweet dream turning into nightmare. He felt that they had slipped through his fingers never to return to his grasp. Arnold sat in his seat, his folks beside him. They had flown into the States from Sen Lorenzo on a smaller plane. They were now leaving Austen, Texas in fifteen minutes. It was a straight shot from there to Portland, Oregon then a relaxing drive home to Hillwood. Arnold Shortmen scoffed, smiling as he watched his parents argue over the arm rest. Miles gave in and wrapped his arm about his wife's shoulders, kissing her temple. He glanced at Arnold smiling in turn and giving the young man a wink . . . To this day the very memory is still painted vividly in his mind. It wasn't until that fateful morning back in Fifth Grade. It had to of been preplanned, because in his mind the timing was perfect.

Think of it, if he had gotten up five minutes earlier, 7:30. He would have beaten the boarders to the bathroom having first dibs on the shower, 7:45. By 8:05, Arnold would have been dressed and had remembered to pack his Math homework into his book bag. Allowing time to stuff his face with Grandma's best pancakes, maybe even slipping Abner a scrap piece or two. Leaving the house at 8:20, allowing him that extra five minutes he needed to make the bus at 8:30. In doing so he'd ignore the yellow taxi driving pass as he strolled down the sidewalk. Missing the warm welcome his parents would have received at the front door of Sunset Arms.

The reality was actually this. His alarm clock never went off, causing his internal clock to wake him up at 7:40. He sprang out of bed with a quick palpitation of his heart. As he rushed down the stairs from his room, he was second in line along side Ernie Potts to use the community bathroom. Once he had his turn with the shower, it was 8:00. Too bad it wasn't laundry day, he had no clean shirts, this meant whatever lay atop the hamper was what he was wearing for the day. And sure enough he completely spaced doing his Math homework the night before, 8:15. Breakfast was just that, fast. He inhaled his food, chocked down a glass of milk and disregard Abner altogether, 8:25. Grabbing for his backpack he dashed to the front door. As it swung open, suddenly time stopped. Thankful he didn't get up five minutes early.

Arnold was frozen where he stood, glossy green orbs glued onto two familiar figurers. These figures were merely a blur in an infant's memory. He recognized them clearly from his dreams. He didn't realize he was crying until he heard a whimper escape his throat. Dropping his backpack he raced down the stoop, and was scooped up into a hug by both long lost parents. This moment in his life was worth balling like a spoiled child. Arnold's cries drew the attention of the house hold; the Boarders peeked around the opened front door. Grandpa Phil and Pookie fallowed suit, coming down the stoop giving Miles and Stella a warm welcome.

* * *

By his first year into Middle School Arnold's parents wanted to return to Sen Lorenzo for further study on the Green eyed people. Arnold felt like he didn't have much of a choice, than again when ever did a 10 year old have one? He was torn between two lives. The one he was grown into here in Hillwood and the one he so desperately wanted to have with his parents.

The decision was made whether or not others approved of it. His Grandparents were keen on the idea. Grandpa Phil voiced it best, "Heck shotman, sometimes you can have the cake and frosting too." Arnold always got a chuckle out of that, and so far, found it to be the best of advice.

His daydream of home's past was put on hold when the Flight attendants were handing out meals to the passengers. He graciously accepted his upgraded TV dinner, stomach growling, he didn't realize he was so hungry. His mother glanced at him giggling at the sound, Arnold blushed. As he ate his lukewarm chicken, covered in gravy, his mind drifted off to his last night in Hillwood.

* * *

Gerald had spread the word that he wanted to plan a going away party for Arnold. The rest of the P.S. 118 gang were more than willing to lend a helping hand, they knew full well Arnold would of done the same for them. Rhonda Lloyd decided to take the reins on all the party planning, she was even kind enough to lend her home for the festivities. No one offered up any complaints.

The night wasn't turned into some extravagant event, with tuxedo's and ball gowns. Knowing Rhonda, she would have pulled out all the stops. She would go to extremes of trying to outdo the graduation party from Fifth grade. She was determined to be ahead of the trend curve, this meant to the point of out doing herself. But being that this was for Arnold, she went completely against her protocol. Cheap streamers twisted and hung from the ceiling, balloons tied to the stair posts, plastic primary colored tabled cloths and table wear to match. Atop the tables was an array of junk food along with several drink choices. To be honest Arnold couldn't ask for anything better.

Soft tunes played in the background, as ones gathered about talking or sharing in a dance or two. Arnold mingled amongst the crowd, friends wishing him the best. After conversing for sometime he made his way to the grand spread of junk food. Picking up a small plastic red plate, he began to fill it. Nearing the end of the table he bumped into Lila by the punch bowl.

"Oh Arnold! I'm ever so sorry. Did I spill any on you?" -she held a hand by her mouth after she had gasped. Her plastic cup was half empty with the remains on Arnold's shirt. She immediately reached for a napkin, in doing so she over reached and knocked his plate from his hands. "Oh dear, I'm such a mess Arnold. Please forgive me?" her voice began to quiver and she broke out into a sob. She cried and whimpered as she dabbed at his stained shirt, ignoring the sprawled food on the floor.

Arnold gently took her hands in his, "Lila its okay, punch isn't going to kill me." He chuckled; hopping the sound of his laughter would brighten her mood.

She sniffled, the sobbing subsiding "I'm not sad about the punch. I'm sad about you leaving. I was hopping ever so much that we'd enjoy Middle school together." Wet leafy-green eyes gazed at him.

Oh how Arnold loved her eyes, they were a fresh sea green. They soothed and at the same time made his heart race. His hands began to clam up so he released her hands, reluctantly. Although she made it perfectly clear she didn't 'like, like' him. He still struggled with his feelings for her. "Well we could write each other. Everyone's writing down their mailing address . . . "He pulled out from his back pocket a plaid address book, handing it over. "This way we can stay in touch. Still share our Middle school years, so to speak." he shrugged.

Lila wrote in the book her mailing address and even an email address. "Just in case you ever have contact with a computer." She smiled sweetly. "After I clean this mess up, will you share a dance with me before this party is over? I'd like it ever so much Arnold." she batted her lashes in a begging manner.

"I'd like that too." was all he said taking back the address book and stuffing it in his back pocket. Time for seconds, he thought, or would it still be considered firsts?

* * *

The plane came in for a landing, tires screeching on the wet landing strip. Portland, Oregan just had a nice rain fall. Funny, how you can travel such a distance and experience all kinds of weather within a day. It was about 3:15 in the afternoon and there was still a long drive ahead of them. They gathered their luggage at the baggage claim. They made their way to the 'Rent a Car' counter. Soon they compact into the small Toyota Yaris. They were on the road for the last leg of their journey home.

Butterflies built up into the pit of Arnold's stomach. It's been eight years too long since he was home. Arnold couldn't wait to share his experiences with Gerald and to hear about his. Letters could only express so much, beyond the paper and ink, what was the feeling behind the words described. His thoughts drifted back to that night and to a person who knew how to write in such a manner.

* * *

Everyone was accounted for at his going away party. Starting off with the host Rhonda and her best friend Nadine, Sheena who came with Eugene, Curly, Harold, Sid who was never without his pal Stinky, and Brainy who was off in a corner being . . . well Brainy. Many others from their Elementary school days were there as well. Of course Lila and Gerald along with shy Phoebe, but someone was missing. Arnold couldn't put a finger on it exactly, but it was odd that this night had gone by so swimmingly without a remark as to his oblong shaped head.

Arnold shared in final goodbyes with each and every person there that night. Leaving Rhonda's with a full and heavy heart. He was going to miss his friends dearly and was saddened at the thought of not growing up with them.

The night was just warm enough for a walk home. It would be the last one for a long while. So he made it last. Strolling through the park, he stopped to revel in the things that took place here. Recalling the time when Steely Phil won a game of Chinese checkers against his archenemy Robbie Fisher. Arnold recalled him and Gerald entering the Tour De Pond boat race, as he passed by the lake. Making his way about the neighborhood, he came across the famous stoop that was home to 'Stoop Kid' who surprisingly was no longer there. Rumor had it he moved on to a bigger stoop. Arnold chuckled at the found memory of helping him overcome his fears. The last place he visited on his trek home was Gerald Field. Kicking at the dirt as he approached the pitcher's mound, he'd miss hanging out here most of all.

"Hey Football Head! That's my spot!"

* * *

Arnold's hand jerked from under his check as the car came to a stop. Groggy eyes looking out the tinted window, Sunset Arms stood before them in all its aged old glory. There's no place like home.

* * *

Authors Quips: Cliff Hanger! Got to love them! What happened at Gerald Field? You might be asking, well you just have to stay tuned. Thanks for reading and I'd love the reviews. =]


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